You Might Think I'm Crazy
by gryffingirl77
Summary: A one-shot Jordan & Nigel fic in Nigel’s POV. Re-edited! Please read & review, thanks!


**A/N:** Hello and welcome to the edited version of "You Might Think". I changed it around a little to fix my past tense/present tense problems. Please read and review!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CJ, or the Cars, or, well, anything really...

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I was sitting in the break room, leaning against the counter with a cup of stale coffee. I had my Walkman with me, the headphones around my neck, but still playing. I was listening to a Pop rock station, which was not my normal music, but they were having an 80's night and had been playing some good tunes, so I'd been listening to it most of the night. They'd played all of my favorites from Depeche Mode to The Cure. They'd even played The Clash, _London Calling, _which I hadn't heard for years. That had made me smile, thinking briefly of home.

It was quite late, but I'd been working on a particularly complicated case and hadn't wanted to leave. Besides, what did I have to look forward to going home to? An empty apartment, Chinese take-out and reruns of MASH. Now that's what I call a bloody wonderful Saturday night.

So I figured I might as well stay at work, get a little overtime and wrap things up so I wouldn't have to work on the case on Monday.

I sipped the coffee, ignoring the taste and focusing on its energizing qualities. Mass quantities of caffeine was the only thing that was gonna keep me going.

The deejay came back on and announced the next song.

"Going way back with a Cars double play," he said and the song began.

I sang along with Ric Ockasic as I filled my cup again and walked back to the lab. The halls were empty, none of the people scurrying around as they did during the day. The place was empty, just like I liked it. It was so much easier to get work done when I wasn't getting interrupted every five minutes. _"Nigel, I need this, Nigel I need that."_ You could bloody well learn to hate your name in this place.

I settled back into my chair and began looking at the results of a test that had been running while I was coffee-ing.

Engrossed as I was in both the report and the Cars, I almost fell off of my chair when the door burst open and Jordan Cavanaugh came sauntering through.

She came around behind me and pulled the headphones off my ears. "I was wondering where that God-awful singing was coming from," she said with a smirk. "I could hear ya all the way in my office."

I grinned at her. "Sorry bout that, luv," I said. "Didn't realize anyone was still here."

She rolled her eyes. "My job is my life, Nige. Like I'd actually have anything better to do on a Saturday night."

I laughed, thinking about how her words mirrored my thoughts of a few minutes ago.

"That's right. We live to work, work to live," I said.

Jordan perched herself onto the desk next to me. I looked over and saw her thighs, clad in a pair of skintight jeans, inches away from me.

I focused my eyes back onto the computer screen in front of me, trying to ignore what Jordan Cavanaugh's presence did to my normally high level of self-control.

But it was hard to be in control of anything when Jordan was around. The girl seemed to ooze trouble and was constantly in it or causing it. More likely than not, she was causing the trouble that she was in.

Jordan began singing along with the song that was playing. "My best friends girl friend., she's my best friends girlfriend and she used to be miiiiiiine," she sang heartily, her voice not half-bad considering that she was trying to be obnoxious.

She was in a good mood. She was in what I like to think of as one of 'Jordan's Highs'. There was no one in the world that better defined 'bipolar disorder' better than Jordan. She was either high, or low, rarely, if ever, anything in between. When she was high she teased, laughed and made jokes. She was, in her own way, charming. In a manic sort of way.

When she was low...watch out. I don't think there was a person in the office that hadn't encountered Jordan's bad moods. She was ruthless, she was cutting and for lack of a better word, she was a first class bitch when she wanted to be.

Strangely enough, despite all of that, I had fallen for her, and hard. Not that it did me any good. I was her 'bud', the guy she came to with her problems. Unfortunately for me, I was never the cause of said problems. Nope, not good ol' Nige. I was there to listen to her complaints, to offer what little help I could as she moaned about a one-night stand, or her ex Tyler or, of course, Woodrow Hoyt.

Woody Hoyt. How I had grown to hate that name. I had almost (almost being the key word here) gotten up the balls to ask Jordan out as more than friends and maybe, just maybe, tell her how I felt about her when Woody Hoyt came onto the scene, fresh from Wisconsin. I'd always thought it strangely fitting that someone with a cheesy name and a cheesy grin hailed from the Cheese State.

My thoughts had wandered far from any of the matters at hand, being the test results I was supposed to be studying, or Jordan's thighs, which I was supposed to be ignoring.

I wasn't doing either.

"So, Nigel, have you ever fallen for your best friends girl?" Jordan asked suddenly. "Or have you ever lost your girl to your best friend?" She was joking around, talking like she was a radio talk-show host, pantomiming holding a microphone in front of me.

I turned away from the computer screen and forced my eyes to stay on her face and not on the incredibly low cut black tank top she was wearing.

"Uh." I cleared my throat. "Can't say that I have," I said casually. The question was no doubt innocent enough. Something for her to say relating to the song I was listening to, but I was struck by the irony of her question. No, I hadn't lost the girl to my best friend. I almost thought I could have handled that better, at least then I would have known I had lost her to someone that almost sorta would have deserved her, rather than a cheesy hick like Woodrow Hoyt.

I turned back to the computer screen. I could feel my cheeks getting hot and hoped she wouldn't notice.

"Ya know, Nige, you've never told me much about your love life," Jordan said speculatively. "And I've gone on for hours about mine," she grinned.

Yeah, I know, I thought and I cursed her and her complete obliviousness to my feelings. I could almost hate her for that.

Almost.

"What kind of girl do you like?" she asked, leaning forward.

I leaned back in my chair and steepled my fingers in front of me. A new song was playing, another Cars song. _You Might Think._

'_You might think I'm crazy_

_To hang around with you_

_Maybe you think I'm lucky_

_To have something to do_

_But I think that you're wild_

_And inside me is some child_

_You might think I'm foolish_

_But baby it's untrue_

_You might think I'm crazy_

_All I want is you'_

I almost laughed at the words and how in some strange way they described my feelings for Jordan. No doubt in my mind that she'd think I was crazy if she knew how I felt about her. Bloody hell, she wouldn't just think I was crazy, she'd think I was some kind of bloody stalker if she knew a fragment of what I felt for her.

"C'mon Nige," Jordan said, kicking me in the thigh with her foot.

"Well, you know, Jordan, I'm really not into girls," I said, raising an eyebrow as I leaned back in the chair, folding my arms behind my head. I was hoping she'd take the bait.

She did. "What?" she said, her eyes widening. "I know the rumor's gone around, but I really didn't believe it."

Now my eyes widened and I sat upright. "What rumor?" I demanded.

She laughed. "Oh, Nige, you fell for that one hook line and sinker," she said, slugging me in the arm.

I sighed, realizing that I'd just been beat at my own game. "Hah hah," I said.

"Hey, you started it," she said. "Oh please, like I'd fall for a load of crap like that. No respectable gay guy would be checking out my cleavage the way you have since I walked into the room."

My jaw dropped. Good God, was I that transparent?

Jordan laughed again. "Kidding, Nige, just kidding," she said with a wink.

I sighed in relief. I didn't know how much more of her I could take.

"Seriously though, what kind of girl catches Nigel Townsend's eye?" Jordan asked, giving me a probing look.

I weighed my options in answering that question. On one hand, I could bullshit an answer, satisfy her sudden curiosity into my love life, or lack thereof. And on the other hand I could use this opportunity to finally tell her how attracted I was to her. There were two possible outcomes. She left knowing nothing more than she ever had, or she could know how I felt and I could be humiliated every time I saw her because she would then think I was a stalker. I knew she and Woody had been on the outs for some time, but that didn't make me believe that I would actually have a chance with her. She and Woody were off as much as they were on. Heaven knew I didn't have the time or energy to keep track of their little rows.

The silence dragged on and Jordan started humming the little 'Jeopardy' theme song. "Oh c'mon Nigel. It's a simple question."

A simple question it was. But a simple answer...no.

"Well, I like a woman that knows what she wants and isn't afraid to demand it," I said.

"Oh, so you like bossy women?"

I smirked when I thought of the many times I'd been bossed around by Jordan. And loved every minute of it. "I suppose so, but I want a woman that has a soft side. I want a woman who is caring, compassionate, and empathetic. I want a woman that is independent, but also wants to be taken care of, who appreciates little gestures and isn't materialistic."

"Hmmm," Jordan said. "Sounds like the things you want are kinda contradictory."

Again I had to smirk at that. Whether she realized it or not, Jordan Cavanaugh was a walking contradiction.

"What about looks?" she asked next.

"Looks are just icing, luv. It's what's inside that counts," I said.

She laughed again and rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh brother," she scoffed. "What kind of an answer is that? You make it sound like you're talking about a cake."

I shrugged. "Icing is icing, luv. Five cakes can look exactly the same on the outside and be completely different on the inside. And if what you want is chocolate, carrot cake just won't cut it."

Jordan was quiet. She looked at me like she'd never seen me before. "So what kind of cake do you like? Carrot cake?"

"No. Devils' food," I said, and raised an eyebrow. "With lots of nuts."

The silence dragged on for another long moment. Then Jordan gave me her little lopsided smile.

'_You might think it's hysterical_

_But I know when you're weak_

_You think you're in the movies_

_And everything's so deep_

_But I think that you're wild_

_When you flash that fragile smile_

_You might think it's foolish _

_What you put me through_

_You might think I'm crazy_

_All I want is you.'_

It was that smile that reminded me how much I cared about her. I'd seen that smile before. She always smiled like that when she was nervous or uncertain. It was the first time that I could remember that it had been directed towards me.

I mentally crossed my fingers that I wasn't about to either make a complete fool out of myself or make Jordan mad.

"So, how are things going with dear Woodrow lately?" I asked casually.

She looked surprised, and then looked down at the floor. "Oh, you know. They're not," she said casually. "He's dating Devon now."

I was surprised by that. I knew that they hadn't been seeing each other as much lately, especially after the incident the night of the blackout when Jordan ditched Woody for his award ceremony. Yeah, it had turned out that it wasn't that night anyway, but since then Woody and Devon had been going out a lot to get drinks and I hadn't seen Woody and Jordan together for awhile. My heart skipped a beat or two as I thought about what she just said. My emotions battled inside of me. Part of me wanted to laugh and cheer and throw a party at the thought of Woody being out of the picture. But the other part of me, that damned good guy side that's been her friend for all of these years, wanted to be sympathetic and friend-like.

I fought back the urge to cheer and cursed my damned good guy side. "I'm sorry Jordan," I said, practically choking on the words. "Do you want to talk, luv?"

With a shake of her head Jordan slid off of the desk. "Nope, I don't. What I want is a drink. Care to join me?"

"Sounds good to me," I said with a grin. I hurried to shut down my computer and followed Jordan down the hall to the elevator. I knew I should stay and finish my work, but there was no way I was going to pass up an opportunity to go out with Jordan, especially considering what she had just told me about her and Woody.

We got downstairs and I motioned towards my motorcycle. It was a little shabby, but it ran. "D'ya want to take the bike?" I asked.

She eyed the bike and then gave me a wild grin. "Of course," she said.

I got on the bike and Jordan climbed on behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I tried to slow down my heart, which was thumping so rapidly I thought I just might be about to have a heart attack.

I twisted around. "Where to, luv? The Pogue?" I asked.

She shook her head vehemently. "No way."

"Okay. How about McGee's?" I said.

She nodded. "Sounds good to me," she said.

"Right," I said and the motorcycle roared to life. I drove us to McGee's, savoring the feel of Jordan pressed up against my back, her arms fastened tightly around me.

I pulled up in front of McGee's and, amazingly, found a decent parking spot. We walked in and immediately all male eyes went to Jordan. She seemed oblivious, as usual. For some reason she just didn't see how incredibly attractive she was. She had low self esteem, I supposed, though why was beyond me.

We went to the bar straightaway. She ordered a whiskey sour, which took me by surprise. She was usually a beer drinker, Guinness mostly.

She saw my curious look and leaned close to me. "I need the hard stuff tonight," she confided with a smirk.

I grinned and ordered a whiskey straight up.

We took our drinks and found a little table tucked into a corner. We were by the jukebox, in front of which a small group of people danced, unaware of the fact that there wasn't really a dance floor.

Jordan took a drink of her whiskey sour and looked at me.

"So, Tyler called me the other day. He's coming to town next week."

My heart sank somewhere in the vicinity of my stomach. "Oh really?" I said weakly. "You going to see him, then?"

She shrugged. "Eh, I don't know. Maybe."

I stared down at my glass, wishing it was big enough that I could just stick my head in it and drown myself. I downed the whiskey and smacked the glass onto the table. That damn Cars song was stuck in my head.

'_And it's hard, so hard to take_

_There's no escape, without a scrape_

_But you kept it going, till the sun fell down_

_You kept it going.'_

"You okay, Nige?" Jordan asked as she finished off her drink.

Bloody wonderful, I thought bitterly. "I'm fine, luv," I said, motioning to a waitress walking by. I gave the order for another round and she left. The way this night was going I was going to need several more of those.

I sat there, staring at Jordan and wondering what to do. I wanted to tell her how I felt, but at the same time I was so certain she'd laugh in my face that I was terrified to. I didn't think I could stand to keep working with her day after day if I told her and she laughed.

But, I reflected as the waitress brought our drinks, I'd never know if I didn't just do it.

Right. Easier said than done, that.

I gulped down my second whiskey and Jordan looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

It wasn't enough to be drunk, but it _was_ enough to get me feeling buzzed. I'd never been that great at holding my liquor and alcohol had always made me less...inhibited.

"We should dance," I said suddenly, heedless of the fact that it wasn't really a dance floor. There were other people dancing, that was good enough for me. Besides, it was a great Depeche Mode tune with a great beat.

Jordan shrugged. "Okay," she said and downed the rest of her drink before she followed me to the middle of the group of dancers.

We danced. Jordan was an exceptional dancer. We had gone out several times and she had danced, but I had never danced _with_ her. I didn't care that I most likely looked like a complete fool next to her. I wasn't trying to prove myself, just trying to have a good time.

The song ended and went straight into a slow song. The dancers just paired off and kept dancing. I stood there, staring at Jordan, half expecting her to bolt back to the table. But she just looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

That was all the invitation I needed. Awkwardly I stepped forward and pulled her into my arms. I had been close to her before, but this was something completely different, an intimacy that I had always dreamed of but never thought would happen.

We stood in the classic waltzing position. I held her right hand in my left, my right hand on the small of her back. She was close, so close that I could feel the heat from her body, could smell the spicy perfume that she always wore, could smell the scent of her shampoo.

We danced and I was oblivious to what was going on around us. I looked down at her and she looked up at me. She didn't have her normal smirk. She looked somewhat startled, but she didn't look horrified or disgusted.

I don't know what came over me then, but I leaned down and kissed her. Right there in the middle of the bar, surrounded by dancing couples, many of whom were making out, so it wasn't like we were out of place.

I was half prepared for her to kick me, knee me in the groin, something to show her displeasure at me kissing her when she was only being polite by dancing with me in the first place.

She did none of those. In fact, she melted into my embrace. Her lips were hot and tasted of cherries, probably from that shiny lip stuff she was always wearing.

Without realizing, we had stopped dancing. The slow song had ended and another fast, techno dance song was blasting. But we just kept kissing. Jordan's arms went around my neck and I held her tiny waist, my fingers almost going all the way around her.

Her mouth was soft and sweet; the cherry of the lip gloss mixed with the whiskey sours that she'd been drinking.

And then, interrupting the bliss of kissing Jordan, there was a voice.

"Jordan?" the voice said incredulously from behind me.

We leapt apart and Jordan looked around me, her jaw falling. I whirled around and came face to face with who else? Woody Hoyt.

He was standing there in a pair of slacks and a button down shirt. His brown hair was spiky, his blue eyes wide with shock and, if I wasn't mistaken, horror. His mouth was open, giving him a fish-like look.

"Jordan, what-what are you doing?" he asked.

I looked over at Jordan who was standing there looking shell shocked. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what the look on her face meant.

"Well, I would have thought that was obvious, Woody," Jordan said, raising an eyebrow. Woody's eyes widened even further.

"Hello, Woodrow," I said, not liking the whole 'let's pretend Nigel isn't standing right there' game that Woody was playing.

"Dr. Townsend," he said formally, narrowed eyes flickering towards me.

Before I could think about it, I looked around and blurted out, "Where's Devon?"

Woody's face fell even further and his cheeks went red.

Jordan looked like she'd been slapped. She recovered quickly, though, and looked up at Woody, one eyebrow raised. "Yes, where is Devon?"

Woody gritted his teeth, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"She's not here. I'm with some of the guys," Woody replied.

There was a rather long silence in which I realized we were standing in the midst of the dancers, who were looking annoyed.

"Uh, why don't we move this little party somewhere else," I said and without looking to see if they were following me I walked to an empty booth and sat down. I waved to the waitress who nodded and came back a moment later with another whisky, which I drained in one gulp. My heart was thudding painfully and I was shaking with adrenaline. It had been a long time since I had gotten into a barroom brawl, but I thought that I could have easily strangled Woody with my bare hands in that moment.

Whatever it had meant, Jordan had let me kiss her. In fact, she had kissed back, too. Now that stupid detective had to come and fuck it all up again. I wished, more than anything, that I hadn't been so bloody chicken and had actually told her how I felt about her.

I was joined shortly by Woody and Jordan. To my surprise Jordan sat next to me, leaving Woody alone across the table.

"What do you want, Woody?" Jordan asked.

Woody gave me a sideways look. "Do we really have to discuss this with _him_ here?" Woody asked.

"Nigel is my friend," Jordan said and I winced at her use of that damned 'f' word.

"Yeah, well, you were looking pretty friendly out there," Woody stated.

Jordan bristled. "Is that any of your business?"

"It should be," he said.

"Why is that? I thought that you were done playing my games? That you couldn't handle my 'moods' anymore. Isn't that what you told me?" Jordan asked. "You didn't know where you stood with me. Isn't that why you went with Devon, because she's not as screwed up as I am?"

Woody looked instantly contrite. "I was wrong to have said those things, Jordan. But I was angry."

"Oh. You were angry," she said sarcastically. "Well, that makes all the difference."

"C'mon Jordan, I'm trying to apologize here."

"Oh, is that was that is? An apology?"

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was a jerk."

"Yeah, you were a jerk," Jordan said, and I began to have a little flare of hope that she wasn't going to jump back into his arms.

I was sure that Woody was a nice enough guy. But he wasn't right for Jordan. It was impossible not to see that they had nothing in common. Woody was Mr. Cheerful. He was the stereotypical 'boy next door'. He was insufferably cocky. He didn't understand Jordan, let alone empathize with her. She had been through hell in her life; she had every reason to be screwed up what with everything that had happened, everything that her father had done to her, lied to her about. Then this latest thing with her brother...Jordan needed someone to accept her, not judge her.

Why couldn't she see that?

I sat there, watching their row and wishing I was anywhere else but here. No doubt they would make up, maybe even kiss, and Jordan would forget all about me. And after kissing Jordan like I had, it would surely kill me to watch them leave together.

The waitress brought a round of drinks. Woody and Jordan ignored theirs; they're too busy snapping at each other. I chugged mine and leaned back, watching the fireworks.

"Maybe if you had ever acted like you cared about me I would have had a reason to fight, Jordan. But you pushed me away each and every time. I tried, God knows how many times I tried to get you to just trust me," Woody said vehemently.

Stupid git, I thought darkly. He didn't know Jordan at all. He thought her pushing him away meant she didn't care. All it meant is that she was overwhelmed, it had nothing to do with how she felt about him.

"Yeah well, all I hear from you is that I 'overreact', that I'm paranoid, that I'm screwed up and need professional help. Isn't that what you told me?"

I raise my eyebrows. I thought it was a miracle that he'd said those things to her and come out with his balls intact. Jordan didn't take lightly to anything to do with craziness, and with what that idiot knew about her mother I couldn't believe that he'd be thoughtless enough to say something like that to her.

Woody threw his hands in the air. "All you've ever done is told me to leave you alone, what did you expect me to do?"

Jordan looked like she was going to say something and then her face tightened. "It doesn't matter, Woody. It's over. You've always wanted me to be someone else. Well, Woody, I am who I am, and if you don't like it, that's your loss. It's been over for a while. In fact, I just don't think that there ever really was anything there in the first place."

I don't know who looked more shocked, Woody or me. His mouth was hanging open and I could see the hurt, then anger, in his eyes. A little rush of hope shot through me.

"You better hope you know what you're doing, Jordan," Woody said quietly, his eyes flashing. "I won't come back again."

"Fine," she said.

Woody sat there for another minute, scowling. Then he stood up. He tossed a ten-dollar bill onto the table for his drink and then looked down at us. I just sat there, trying to pretend I wasn't really there.

"Good bye Jordan. I hope you two are happy together," he said and turned and stormed out of the bar.

There was a long silence and then I looked over at Jordan, not knowing what to expect. Her face was slightly pale but she didn't look devastated. She looked more angry than anything.

"Well," she said and gave me that little lopsided grin of hers. "That was fun."

"I'm sorry luv," I said. I almost meant it too. I was sorry that Woody was an asshole. I was sorry that she was hurt. But more, I was just damn sorry that he'd interrupted that kiss.

"I'm not," she said with a little shrug. "He's a jerk, don't worry about it."

But even though her words were bold, she looked unhappy. I inwardly cursed Woody and forced a smile.

"Why don't I take you home, luv?" I said gently.

"I don't want to go home, Nigel."

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay. What do you want?" I asked.

In one of her patented lightning fast mood swings she went from angry and hurt to sly and provocative. She gave me a wicked little smile. "Oh, I don't know if you can handle what I want."

Intrigued, I raised both eyebrows, "Try me," I said challengingly.

"What I want to do is continue that kiss that was so rudely interrupted," she said and drained the last of her whisky sour.

I licked my lips nervously and tried to hide the fact that I was nervous. "Oh really?"

"Really."

"You're on," I said suddenly and stood up. I took her hand and dragged her out of the bar. She looked surprised but said nothing.

The muggy air hit us as soon as we walked outside. I stopped abruptly in front of my motorcycle and turned around to face Jordan.

I don't know if it was the whiskey, the kiss or both, but I was feeling wild, reckless, not at all like myself. The reserved Nigel Townsend that had watched Jordan from the shadows for years seemed to have disappeared into thin air, leaving in his wake the new Nigel that was damn sick of being on the sidelines. I was damn tired of watching Jordan, wanting Jordan and being too bloody afraid to do anything about it.

She didn't care about Woody. He'd offered her another chance and she'd turned it down, blown him off, really. And I was going to take full advantage of it.

I wasn't stupid enough to think that she turned Woody down _for_ me or _because _of me. But I saw the opportunity to do what I should have done years ago and I wasn't letting it pass by me again.

I looked down at Jordan who was watching me, half bewildered and half amused. I'd just been standing there staring at her like a bloody fool.

Throwing caution and all sensibility to the wind I reached down and pulled Jordan to me. I leaned over and I kissed her before I had time for second thoughts.

She immediately froze. Then, as she had done in the bar, she wrapped her arms around me. I pulled back for half a second to revel in the shock that was plain on her face, and then I leaned back down and kissed her again.

I ran my fingers through her hair and when we finally broke apart I was breathless. She looked up at me, her hazel eyes wide, her mouth open slightly.

The words to that damn Cars song were still stuck in my head.

'_You might think I'm delirious_

_The way I run you down_

_But somewhere, sometime_

_When you're curious_

_I'll be back around_

_And I think that you're wild_

_And so uniquely styled.'_

"You're crazy," she gasped and I couldn't tell what she was thinking or feeling.

"Delirious," I corrected.

"What?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Nothing, luv," I said with a little smirk.

We stare at each other then I wished I knew what she was thinking, but that was one of the most intriguing things about Jordan. She was unexpected, she never did what you thought she would do. Jordan was herself at all times, never one to conform. As the words of that song said Jordan was uniquely styled.

It was one of the things I loved the most about her.

"You know, Nigel, I've never seen your apartment," Jordan said finally.

My heart stalled at her words, then kicked into high gear at the seductive, suggestive and incredibly sexy look on her face.

"No, luv, I don't think you have," I said, licking my lips nervously.

"Well, c'mon then, let's go," she said.

She didn't have to ask me twice. I hopped onto the bike and she climbed on behind me. Once her arms were firmly around my waist the bike roared to life and I started heading to my apartment, which was only a few minutes away.

'_You might think it's foolish_

_This chancy rendezvous_

_You might think I'm crazy_

_But all I want is you'_

I knew I was taking a chance with Jordan. But anything to do with Jordan was a gamble, and it was one that I was willing to take. Win or lose, I knew I was in for one hell of a ride...

((Please review, thanks!))


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